


Glain's Friday

by blessedharlot



Series: Glain: A Week in the Life [5]
Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Aro Ace Glain Wathen, Bakery, Canon Asexual Character, Fluff, Food, Gen, Glain Has Hobbies, Lots of OC mentions, Lots of Wathen boys, No Romance, No Sex, Post-Series, day in the life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22635436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blessedharlot/pseuds/blessedharlot
Summary: Glain catches up with a brother and celebrates his new accomplishment.
Relationships: Glain Wathen & OC
Series: Glain: A Week in the Life [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1608322
Comments: 3
Kudos: 8





	Glain's Friday

Not many people knew this about Glain - she rarely shared it - but the sugar and yeast smell of a bakery always lifted her spirits. 

Her beloved aunt Agnes had built her own celebrated bakery from the ground up, and run it all her life. When Glain was a child, on days off from school, she found herself in town with some brother or another, and they always ended up in that bakery kitchen. She’d watch staff bustle about in crisp white linens, making hundreds of glistening pastries and sweet breads, brightly-colored cakes and beautifully designed pies. Aunt Aggie sometimes brought some treat or another to the table in the corner where Glain kept her older brothers in line -- bites of flaky pastry with dollops of sweet cheese, or buttery cookies dipped in chocolate. Glain never developed a sweet tooth, as delicious as every sweet was. But the scent of that place sat in her heart. It was always a reminder of her pride in her family, of joy at their presence. It was one more scent of home.

It was a reminder of her brother Dafydd too, of his hard work following Aggie’s footsteps, his determination convincing their parents to let him apprentice for this… and now his bravery, starting a Wathen family bakery in Alexandria. It would open next week, not far from Jess and Anit’s bookstore. Glain now stood next to Dafydd in the vacant kitchen of the place, and the air itself felt eager and ready to fill with scents. The surfaces still gleamed a bit too fresh without the staff in to work the place yet.

Glain had never been prouder of him.

“Why on earth would you come all the way to Alexandria?” Glain asked with a smile.

“How else are you going to eat properly?” Dafydd replied. “Someone’s got to keep an eye on you.”

Ignoring Dafydd’s glares, Glain hopped up onto a portion of the counter just adjacent to the space he was using to make some pastry he’d dragged them both here to make. 

“What are these for again?” Glain asked.

“For me. I need baklava.”

“Alright, but what do you need it for?”

“For this!” Dafydd pointed to his stomach. “Keep up, Glain, for the love of God.”

Glain chuckled and watched him as he began to work. Dafydd looked as good as ever, and he did it effortlessly. His curly dark hair would brush his shoulder if he didn’t have it pulled back. He was as tall and broad-shouldered as any of them, but with especially agile, talented fingers. Glain’s mind flashed on the money she’d won in her youth, betting on Dafydd’s skill at various dexterity puzzles. Another brother, Harold, also channeled his passion through his hands; he was a gifted scrollwork carpenter, and Glain enjoyed watching him work almost as much as she enjoyed his beautiful final pieces. Dafydd, though. He carefully crafted all manner of delicate shapes, all to be offered up for others to eat. All to be consumed, often by someone unaware of the work involved. Glain marvelled a bit at that.

“So, how is everybody? Really?” Glain pressed. She felt out of the loop these days. 

Dafydd nodded and talked as he walked to an ice box and reached in for pastry dough.

“Everyone is well. Mam had the scare with her heart, but you know about that. All settled with the new treatment. She gets a bit winded still, but that’s supposed to sort itself out. Dad’s thrilled to fuss over her like a mother hen.”

Glain nodded. She could trust her mother to comply with Medica instructions, one of the few people she loved that she could say that about. And Dad would attend her closely.

Dafydd returned with a bowl too, and set it to the side of his chopping board while he opened a package of nuts.

“Cadfan is getting on at the bar just fine,” he said.

“You think he likes it?” Glain asked, with only a little incredulity.

Dafydd shrugged. “It’s Cad, he’s likes anything that lets him sleep late.”

“Well, that’s true,” she said.

“Harold and Chelsea are pregnant again. I’m fairly certain it’s his.”

Glain scoffed.

“Llew’s got another line for some…” Dafydd curdled his nose like the words smelled rancid. “Real estate scheme. God only knows. No one’s broken his kneecaps yet, so I suppose he’s staying on the good side of those with too much muscle in their pocket, anyway.”

Glain shook her head. “And the twins?”

Dafydd nodded. “They nearly moved here with me. They miss you still, of course. But we knew that.”

The twins were two mismatched beasts that had arrived in the family just before Glain did. She’d always been closest to them, and to Dafydd.

“Glyndwr’s keeping to his bookkeeping, and again, his kneecaps are intact. So well done there. He’s got a boy he’s seeing that we all tolerate rather well so far. Loyd’s bored with the farm work, I think he’s finally going to take off.”

Glain turned, shocked. “Quit running the farm? And do what?”

“Sail, I think. Some lead he had on a sailing gig that didn’t sound too terrible.”

Well, that was a surprise. Loyd had been dutiful managing the farm day-to-day for years... though she supposed if she thought about it, Glain wasn’t at all certain he’d chosen it for himself. “Loyd might like the travel,” she mused.

“He would,” Dafydd agreed. “Taking orders, not so much.”

“Easier to stomach taking them when your other option is drowning.”

“You may be right.”

"So, you. You big oaf," she said, kicking in his direction. “Anything new?”

“New? Why nothing at all. Oh, you mean besides a brand-new dessert establishment some distance away from my previous residence?”

“I mean anything I don’t know, you overdramatic cow.”

“Nothing. No secrets,” he said. “You know how bad I am at them.”

Glain tried to catch his gaze, but he kept it downcast. It was heavier, all of the sudden, than Glain knew it usually was. She felt a glancing blow to her heart.

“You left someone,” Glain said quietly. “When you moved.’

Dafydd shrugged. When he looked up, Glain thought she saw a glisten in his eyes for just an instant.

“Nothing worth talk of,” Dafydd said plainly.

Glain wanted to know more. She didn’t know he’d been seeing anyone. But she took the hint.

"How close are you to being prepared for this opening?" she asked with an eyebrow raised.

Dafydd laughed loudly, the sound of amusement and frustration echoing through the kitchen.

"That close?" she asked.

"You’ve run people before," Dafydd insisted. "You've marshalled your portion of an army and it supplies, you know how it goes. It's gross, grubby, never-ending work. It's being required to write down too many goddamn things, and delegate, and plan, and still nothing goes right."

Glain wasn't fooled. Dafydd's eyes now sparkled.

"So you're ready to quit?" she asked.

He shrugged, and looked around. "I suppose I'll stick with it til it opens."

Glain smiled, and noticed the etching work on the windows that looked out onto the street. Each window panel had a tidy border framing it, and a beautiful pattern of flowers in each corner. Passers-by would have a framed portrait of the busy bakers making beautiful things. It was one more little touch of Dafydd's love for this place.

"What about you?" he said. "If we're poking at questions like, 'are you happy at what you're doing?' How's Glain, then?"

Glain smiled and gave an easy shrug.

"Why wouldn't I be happy being a soldier?" she said.

"So it's everything you wanted it to be?" he asked thoughtfully. "Revolution included."

"Well," she replied. "That part wasn't planned."

Dafydd eyed her, though it wasn't the look most of her own family gave her. It wasn't that vaguely suspicious sort of pride, as though right alongside their boasting at what she'd done lay a worry that someone had swayed her to do it. Dafydd knew better than most. This was merely a look of examination. He had always been determined that she be true to herself.

"Not planned?" he prompted, mildly.

"Not anticipated, anyway," she said. "Merely necessary."

"Well, you only helped change the entire world, love," he offered.

Glain rolled her eyes.

"Stop with that," he said gravely. "It's true."

Glain shook her head.

"What?" Dafydd said. "You've never been uncomfortable being a hero before. You crowed for weeks when you saved the Dowlings’ horse from certain death. Nearly demanded a payment from them."

"That's because they had endangered the poor thing in the first place!" She insisted. "They needed to learn a lesson."

Dafydd chuckled, wiping nut paste off his hands.

"Then what?" he said. "Seems a few folks needed some lessons in this circumstance too."

"We're not heroes, not like they've made us to be." Glain shook her head, then tried to change tactics. "No, it's fine. If people want to be grateful."

"But…" Dafydd encouraged.

Glain looked out the window, onto the street, and watched crowds of Alexandrians going about their ordinary days. The memory of the battles shaking the buildings wasn’t forgotten. But it was dampened by new life, new tasks to be done to live.

"We did what needed doing," Glain said plainly. "Step by step. We weren't going to leave our friend in hell. And then we just wanted to save our own selves. And then we needed to save each other. And then…"

Dafydd chopped, and listened quietly.

Glain felt something raw and ragged shift in her chest. She wasn't in the mood though, and took a deep breath against the tension. Maybe she'd swing by Thomas' group for support next week.

"We didn't choose it,” she finally said. “Not all of it, not… everything we had to do.”

Glain swallowed it all back.

“We just weren’t going to turn away," she said matter-of-factly, meeting Dafydd’s eye.

Dafydd nodded thoughtfully.

"Never looks like you think it will, does it?" he said.

"What doesn't?"

Dafydd shrugged. "Responsibility. Leadership." He looked around the quiet kitchen. "Love."

Glain started to protest the word. She bucked against the strength of it, the demonstrative nature of it. But then she looked around, and she imagined bringing her friends here… and her heart leapt into her throat. Though she wouldn’t tell them that.

“No,” Glain replied. “I suppose it doesn’t.”

**Author's Note:**

> Tomorrow -- the race!!!


End file.
